


Forever and always my son

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Beware, Dad!Tony, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Son!Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 22:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16585553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: When Peter's sick he lets it slip he isn't particularly fond of when his father goes away and misses when he was little and Tony would be there for him all the time.





	Forever and always my son

**Author's Note:**

> legit just going and finishing hella old stories and posting em

Tony carefully ran his hands through his fourteen-year old’s sweat-slick hair, yet he didn’t stir. People had been getting sick all over, he hated the colder months especially when he had to send Peter to school and be cramped with more sick kids.

It’s no wonder his fever was high, the school had to close down for a week because so many students were at home sick.  Peter’s skin radiated heat, his features pale where they weren’t flushed red. 

The Avenger watched worriedly, using his thumb to even out the distressed lines that formed on the boy's forehead when he felt uncomfortable which was every few minutes. The younger Starks mouth was parted, moist breaths fell out due to his nose being so congested.

Bruce and Helen had looked the teen over, confirming that as long as they kept him hydrated and nourished, Peter would just have to suffer through it so when it came around again he wouldn’t be as affected.

After a few minutes of Tony doting, using a warm towel to wipe away the boy’s sweat, and continuously tucking the blanket tighter under the boy. Peter’s eyes struggled to open, feeling crusty and gross.

The distressed father smiled sadly at the sight of the boy's open eyes. Those doe eyes were hazy, unfocused, lost. 

“Hey ducky,” Tony whispered softly, the boy’s weak and aching limbs groaned in response. Weak coughs escaping, leading Tony to carefully pull the boy up and against his chest. His broad hand sweeping across the boy’s back to assist.

“Daddy?” A tremendously hoarse but small voice called against his chest. Tony’s shoulders tightened, Peter hadn’t called him that since he was six. Then again Bruce had said hallucinations were probable.

“I’m here, daddy’s here,” The man assured, taking the boy’s face in his hand while using the other to wipe the boy’s throbbing temples. Peter whined, trying to get closer, whimpering in agony.  Tony could see clearly whatever Peter was seeing, wasn’t through his normal eyes. The teen continued to burrow, Tony letting him without a second thought.

“Please don’t go, I don’t like when you go,” the boy murmured, fingers clutching the older man’s hips painfully tight.

“I’m not going anywhere sweetheart,” Tony assured, burying his face in the boy’s sweaty curls. They tended to furl together when wet leaving the normally flowy hair curled and ready to bounce.

“You always go,”  The boy sobbed against his chest, whining because the action made his head throb. Tony’s grip tightened, winding further around the boy who radiated so much heat he’d begun to sweat as well.

“I’m not going anywhere Pete, I’m staying with you. Right here,” he assured, reaching over for the tissue box so Peter could blow his nose. It wouldn’t help much, but Tony wasn’t sure Peter could breathe properly through his sobs and every little bit helped.

Peter blew his nose against the tissue, Tony quickly wiping the boy’s face before he could press his face back against his chest. He could deal with a wet suit, but he didn’t want it sticky.  It didn’t matter though because it only took another minute for Peter to drop off into dreamland, leaning heavily into his father’s arms.

“That’s it sweetheart, sleep, I won’t leave you,” He whispered as he carefully laid his son back down into thin covers.

\---

If anything Tony would have liked to wake up to the sound of his son gently calling for him, not the sound of wretching and gasps as his son, far too weak to pull himself up, choked on his own vomit.

Tony had quickly moved to lean him over the side of the bed, in hopes of getting it out as he patted his back hard, it took a minute or two for it all to come up and out onto the tiled floor. Peter cried helplessly in turn, chuffing, and wailing as he was maneuvered.

“God fucking dammit, oh god, Pete were okay,” Peter didn’t mind his father's scared curses, because quite frankly he’d been mortified himself.  Bruce and Helen rushed in, looking at the two with wide eyes as Tony wiped the boy’s mouth and crushed him to his chest.

No one needed to say anything as the pair began to clean the floor and check Peter over.

\---

It had been heaven when the fever broke, but Peter still wasn’t in the clear. He couldn’t talk without coughing up his lungs and straining his vocal cords, and couldn’t support himself or anything for too long.  But his eyes weren’t hazy, and he could breathe through his nose so it was something. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you Pete, the other day-” The man stopped short as Peter looked up at him, causing him to rethink if he really wanted an answer.

“You asked me not to go,” He let out in one breath, and the boy’s head tilted.

“I don’t-” he coughed, “remember, were-” Peter’s arm shifted to his chest, “You leaving?” 

“No sweetheart, I wasn’t going anywhere. But you seemed to think so,” Tony sighed, moving to take a seat beside his son.

“Did-does it bother you when I leave for work?”  Peter turned his head away, not even trying to come up with an answer.

“What-if you don’t-” Peter leaned over at his next cough, it sounding painful enough for Tony’s to run his hand along his back and applied a swat or two when it sounded like he couldn’t get it out, “Come home?”

His response had been immediate, “I will,”

“You don’t know that!” Peter retorted voice cracking as his chest spasmed in an attempt to hold his coughs in. 

“I do know that,” Tony ground out trying not to yell, “I know that because I will always come home to you. If you think I’d let anything prevent me from coming home to see that you’re okay, then you’re wrong,”

Peter looked up at him with teary eyes, “I miss you being there to stop the monsters in my closet- and when you’d carry me around and point at all the tall buildings when I couldn’t sleep,” No breath escaped either of them in those words. More were lost when Peter launched himself with all his strength into the older man's chest.

“I miss it too sweetheart, I miss it too,” Tony lifted the boy’s chin to look him in the eyes, “But you’re bigger now, and I can be there for you in different ways. But you need to know, if you ever need me, I’m right here Petey, and you still will always be my little boy,”

Peter cried at that, trying to bury back into his arms, “Please just hold me,” he rasped out.

Tony did.


End file.
